


you'll bring me home

by WashiEaglewings



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Discussion of Pregnancy, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Terraqua Week (Kingdom Hearts), post-kh3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-19 06:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WashiEaglewings/pseuds/WashiEaglewings
Summary: They're due for a new chapter after the Keyblade War.





	1. #gummiphone

“It seems more like you’re having a vacation than focusing on the mission.”

“You say that like you _ want _Heartless to jump up out at us. Sheesh!”

Aqua’s never been more grateful for the Gummiphones Chip and Dale had given the Keyblade wielders than this moment, with Ven worlds away from her and Terra in the Land of Departure. The picture might be somewhat grainy and there are times when the audio dips in and out—because of the reception in the forest, Ven is quick to assure her, but it doesn’t stop her heart thudding every time it happens—but it’s better than nothing.

“But yeah, no signs of anything amiss here,” Ven says, zooming in on a particularly vibrant bunch of wildflowers growing off the shaded path. “Someday we’ll have to come together.”

“I’d like that,” Aqua says, pressing her cheek against Terra’s chest. “Just be sure to keep an eye out, Ven, you—“

“Never know what might pop out of nowhere,” Ven finishes, turning the camera to him. He smiles radiantly, and maybe it’s the lighting but he looks slightly sunburned. “I know. No need to worry about me!”

They both know this—of the three of them, Ventus had been the quickest to bounce back from the end of the war with Xehanort. It’s easy to see the years of growth in his newfound height, in the new electric light behind his eyes and the faintest traces of laugh lines around his mouth. But old habits die hard for Aqua and Terra, so used to thinking of him as something small to protect. 

“I say that more for Naminé’s sake.”

“Naminé’s fine! See?” He swerves the camera to show the girl in white bent in front of a bush of flowers, furiously sketching in her notebook with the condensed form of the silver staff she and Aqua had been training with.

Naminé must say something that they can’t hear, because Ven chuckles nervously and moves several feet away.

“By the way,” Ven says, “did you still need me to pick up some ginger? Or are you feeling better, Aqua?”

She’s opened her mouth to say yes, but the slow roll of her stomach catches the lie before it’s left her. “Getting there,” she says instead, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “But I’m meeting with Aerith tomorrow, to make sure.”

His brow furrows. “Hope it’s nothing too serious.”

She catches Terra’s eyes, blue and wide and worried. Her free hand, the one out of Ven’s view on the phone, finds Terra’s underneath their blanket and squeezes. “You know me. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you tell us otherwise?”

Probably not, and they all know it. But Terra clears his throat and turns the camera closer to him. “That’s why I’m here, making sure she gets some rest. And to tell _ you_,” he says with a grin, “not to forget to write your reports.”

“But that’s _ boring! _”

“And important.”

“_Ughhhh._”

“Trust us, Ven, it’s better to write notes when they’re fresh.”

“You two are so—Oh!” Ven turns to look at something off-screen, and laughs. “I have to go, guys, looks like Naminé found some birds and I’m the only one with a camera. Catch you two later!”

She can’t help the soft sigh as the live feed ends and Terra’s screen goes black. Her own face is reflected back at her: the dark circles she’d spent months fighting have crept back under her eyes, and there’s a new tautness to her mouth. Her stomach rolls again and she groans, pushing her cheek against Terra’s chest. 

His free hand comes up to brush a few stray locks of hair from her forehead, the touch solid and warm. She leans into it, sighing softly. “Is the tea at least helping?” he asks, fingers drifting down to her shoulder. 

“Yes,” she says, glancing up at him. She’s known him long enough to know his tells: furrowed brow outside of battle means he’s struggling for words, tight eyes mean he’s cautious. She squeezes his hand again and sits up. “Room’s not spinning anymore.”

“I can be there with you tomorrow if you want,” he says.

“Aerith knows what she’s doing. I’ll be fine.” She kisses his cheek. “Trust me?”

“Always,” he says. “Need anything?”

She thinks for a moment. “Maybe some more tea?”

“Sure,” he says, and wiggles out from under her. “Some toast, too?”

Aqua nods, reluctantly dropping his hand so he can leave. The small room they’d renovated into a den is flooded with afternoon light, surprisingly warm for early spring. She shuffles under the blanket to find her own Gummiphone, opening her messages. Her last conversation with Aerith is still there, not a fever dream like she'd been hoping. Scrolling up quickly to hide the worst of it, Aqua sneaks a quick glance at the doorway before typing a new message.

**Aqua**

Are you still free to meet tomorrow?

The caution isn't necessary, she knows; Terra's probably not even in the kitchen yet. Still, she holds her breath until the tell-tale three dots appear at the bottom of the screen and her phone dings.

**Aerith**

Of course! 

The tea’s helping, I hope?

**Aqua**

It is

Thank you

**Aerith**

It’s my pleasure :)

I have everything set up in my office. Do you remember how to get there?

**Aqua**

Head west from Merlin’s

If I get to the old ruins I’ve gone too far

White building with the green roof?

**Aerith**

You got it! Let me know if anything changes.

Otherwise See you tomorrow!

She locks her phone and leans back into the cushions, closing her eyes. She’s straddling the boundary between zoning out and falling asleep when Terra comes back with a steaming mug in his hands. He’s quiet as he joins her, gently pulling her against him as he offers the tea. She settles easily, taking slow, long sips between breaths.

The problem isn’t that she’s sick; her time in the Realm of Darkness had wrecked her immune system to the point that she isn’t surprised by small sniffles and days of lethargy. The problem is that it’s been a week of feeling awful, to the point where she’s been able to feel the edges of her bones in the short showers she’s managed to stand through. 

“You don’t even have to take me, if you want to meet with Ven.”

His hand stops along her forearm; this close, she can feel his heart start thundering. “You’re sick,” he says simply. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

The _ problem _ is that Terra turned down that mission with Ven to watch her. Their duties as Masters are being impacted by _ her _ weakness, and if she could just figure out what was wrong...

She sighs at the thought. “I would have been fine.”

“Would you really?” he asks softly. 

“I'm a big girl, I can handle myself.” She grabs the soft folds of his shirt. “But... I won't deny that this has been nice. Having time to ourselves.”

They get the occasional mission to themselves, but they aren’t vacations; after Xehanort’s fall, the Worlds have teetered on the edge of order and chaos. It’s taken all of them to reach this point of stabilization, where a trip to Corona can be simple recon and not an unexpected battle. Aqua feels guilty anyway. 

He wraps an arm loosely around her and presses a kiss into her scalp. “I like it, too.”

Aqua doesn’t say anything else, just closes her eyes and drinks.

* * *

Radiant Garden hums around them: shopkeepers shout the excellence of their wares as customers murmur to themselves, passing storefronts and carts alike. Later in the day, she knows, the lamplights will glow orange and shoppers will be replaced by dancers and chefs; for now, the mid-morning sun shines on the path leading to a small clinic with flowers overflowing from window boxes. 

“Let me know when you’re ready,” Terra tells her. “I’ll be around.”

“I’ll text you,” she says, squeezing his hand softly before knocking on the door. 

Aerith answers immediately, the blue bow tying her hair back revealing a wide, open smile. “Come on in. We’ll be just fine!” she calls above Aqua’s head, waving. She turns just in time to see Terra wave slightly before Aerith tugs her inside her small office. It’s simply arranged, a small computer desk framed by bookcases and towering floor plants. Aerith already has two teacups waiting at the small table in the corner, filled only with promises.

She’s never spent much time with the former-flower girl-turned-adventurer-turned-nurse; in truth, Aqua doesn’t know much beyond what Kairi has ever mentioned in passing. Just that she’s very good at what she does, and exceptionally kind. After claiming a few basic measurements—weight stable, _good_—Aqua sits down in the chair right by the table as Aerith gathers her equipment, already wrapping the blood pressure band around Aqua's arm. 

“So,” Aerith says, settling in her chair and squeezing. “Nausea, lethargy, changes in appetite… better now, or worse?”

“Better in the last twenty-four hours,” Aqua says, trying to ignore the new tightness around her forearm. “The tea’s helped keep food down. I’ve kept to simple starches as you suggested—rice, noodles with a simple sauce.”

The pressure builds, and builds, and just when Aqua's about to complain Aerith releases it with a slow hiss of air. Aerith writes down the numbers in her small file, nodding to herself. “No new changes here so far. And you’re not dizzy now? No tenderness?”

“No.” Just nervous, she bites back. Most sicknesses she’d faced had been cured with rest and fluids, and healing battle injuries was second nature after years of schooling and combat. The antiseptic smell she’d once associated with doctor’s offices was absent here, perhaps masked by Aerith’s plants, but the shining silver is the same. “Tenderness... A little in my chest. Nothing distracting.”

Aerith continues the exam, studying her eyes, her ears, the inside of her throat, the beating of her heart, scratching down notes all the while. For a few moments she wishes she had taken Terra up on his offer; having a hand to hold that wasn’t her own might have calmed her slightly. If this were any doctor’s appointment, she would have without question.

“Temperature slightly higher than normal, but acceptable. No outright fever.” Aerith draws back slightly, eyes slightly narrowed in thought. “Did you… give any thought to what I suggested over text?”

But this is not an ordinary doctor’s appointment.

“I…” Aqua stiffens, her mouth going dry. “Yes. But when we originally returned from the Keyblade Graveyard, when I was… you told me it was impossible.”

“I think my teacher and I told you it would be _ difficult _, but not impossible.” Aerith sits back in her chair, legs perfectly crossed. “We still don’t know just what your time in the Realm of Darkness did to you physically. Not even Ansem the Wise—”

“Forgive me, Aerith,” Aqua interrupts, “but I doubt he would… share my exact concerns.”

Aerith chuckles, conceding the point with a small nod. “And you said your cycle was consistently irregular?”

“Always has been, since I was small.” Eraqus had told her it was normal, that bodies under physical stress could perform unpredictably, but she had come to recognize it as just another burden of the Keyblade. “It never… really mattered much. Until now, I suppose.”

She can’t even think the word. Think about that path. Not here.

Aerith reaches for her hand and squeezes; it doesn't fill her with the same security as Terra's hand, but just that simple contact is enough to start her breathing again. “Right now we just need to know. And once we do, we can talk in more detail. You, and me.”

And Terra, she thinks. When she’s ready. When she _ knows. _She breathes a heavy sigh and looks up at Aerith. “What do I have to do?”

“Since we _ are _in a doctor’s office, I think a blood draw would be the best way to confirm. Shouldn’t take too long for me to get results, and I’ll call you as soon as I learn anything.”

“And the other option?”

“I fill you with tea and you take a test yourself.” Aqua’s eyes must go wider than she’d thought, because Aerith laughs warmly. “But the blood test will be more reliable, and you’ll still get some tea afterward.”

It’s better to know. Isn’t that what Eraqus had told them as students? That knowledge, though a great burden, could only empower? (_Look where that had led Xehanort, _ Ventus had said in the months after the battle, and she hadn’t had the heart to chastise him for it.) But in this instance…

She swallows hard. “The blood draw, then,” Aqua says.

It helps that she doesn’t have a fear of needles; she still doesn’t look as Aerith prepares her, not even flinching at the small poke in the crook of her elbow. She probably doesn’t even need the whispered _ Cure _from the young healer to close the wound, but appreciates the warm rush of energy all the same. Aerith walks to her desk and returns with a box of tea cookies and a warm pot, pouring generously into their cups. It’s a fruit tea, Aqua recognizes, the sweet tang of berries and florals wafting up into the room.

“Don’t you have another appointment?” Aqua asks, already reaching for a cookie.

“Not for another hour. Besides,” Aerith says, sneaking a sip. “I’d like to get to know you better. Outside of what Sora’s told me.”

“Which is?”

“That you’re exceptionally brave and kind, but a stickler for form.”

And Aqua laughs, remembering her last incident with the young savior of worlds: a near-disaster of Glider training, where Sora had spent more time on his face in the dirt than on his ride. “I’m sure he didn’t tell you the whole story.”

“I’m sure he didn’t, but I’d love to hear.”

She can't quite ignore the new tightness in her belly. But she tries, and begins.


	2. future masters

Terra gets Aqua’s text two hours after he’d left her on Aerith’s doorstep: _ got to talking and tea time. Ready when you are. _

She and Aerith wait for him outside, Aerith nursing a cup of some sweet-smelling tea in her hands. Aqua turns to him with a nervous sort of smile and greets him with only a squeeze to his hand—the most public display of affection she’s comfortable with. He squeezes back and turns to Aerith with a low nod. “Good to see you again.”

“You as well, Master Terra,” Aerith says. “You’re in good health?”

“More or less.” No major sicknesses, very few episodes of sleep paralysis after some time away from the battlefield. “Everything went okay?”

Aqua answers him with a slight nod. “Aerith’s sending me home with some medicine—just something to settle my stomach.”

“That’s good,” he says.

“I should probably start preparing for my next appointment,” Aerith says. She looks right at Aqua and smiles. “I’ll follow up with you in a few days, okay?”

The slight rise of a blush on her cheeks surprises him; she might not even know it’s there, if the soft “Of course” she gives Aerith in turn is anything to go by. Aerith leaves them with a wave and a click of the door.

“So,” Aqua says, “I suppose we head back home?”

“You aren’t hungry or anything?”

“We shared some cookies with our tea,” Aqua says. “So no, not at the moment. Why, did you want to stop somewhere?”

“I have some food in the kitchen. Thought I would make a stir fry, if you’re up for it.”

“We’ll see how I am after you’re done,” she says, already raising her hand. Stormfall floods into her palm with a flutter of petals. It’s darker than it used to be a decade ago, the guard more square; it reminds him of Master’s Defender, the blade they’d struck into the ground as a memorial for their former teacher, of the many dark years she’d had to carry it.

If he’d been stronger, if he could have just—

“Terra?”

Her voice tugs him out of his thoughts. He’s known her almost his whole life, and knows how to read her: the tension in her mouth, the too-bright gleam of her eyes, it all points to worry. He shakes his head and reaches for her hand again. “I’m fine.”

She smiles. “Then let’s go home.”

It’s a simple portal; they don’t even have to summon their Gliders. One step from Radiant Garden’s early afternoon becomes a step onto the courtyard of the Land of Departure, dusking in the sun’s slow slip behind the mountains. A comfortable silence settles between the two of them as they head to the kitchen, as spices and the sizzle of browning meat and onions fills the air. An hour proves enough to stoke an appetite in Aqua, and though she doesn’t finish her whole small serving it’s _ something _. He eats enough for the two of them and still has food left over. And when Aqua takes her tiny pills and curls back into bed, when he’s flushed from the shower and their nightlight throws dancing stars around them, she reaches for him with restless hands and kisses him deeply.

If he could live the rest of his life like this, with Aqua at his side and natural light seeping into his skin, with Ventus just an arm’s reach or a phone call away, he’d be satisfied.

* * *

“I’m just saying I’m worried,” Terra says, two days later. Aqua had left him in the morning saying she’d be walking around doing rounds, checking in on the small village at the base of the mountain. It’s near lunch-time and he hasn’t seen a trace of her.

Ven’s sigh crackles on the other line. “It’s definitely not normal. But Terra, maybe she just needs space?”

“Maybe,” he says, brushing new soil onto the garden bed. “There’s just… I don’t know, maybe you’ll be able to get a better read on her.”

“If you can’t get her to open up, I doubt I will.” 

Terra shakes his head with a sigh. “Anyway. Mission still going okay?”

“Yeah! I guess we just missed a festival in the square. Not the one Sora came to, celebrating Rapunzel’s birthday, something honoring the equinox? Naminé was really bummed we missed it.”

“We’ll just have to all go together next year,” Terra says, as his phone dings.

“We’re gonna hold you to that! Oh, I’ll put it in my calendar—and I’ll put it in both of _ yours _ once I get home.”

“Which is?”

“Shouldn’t be more than a few days, at this rate.”

“I’ll let you get back to it. And... thanks for listening, Ven.”

“Yeah, anytime! Let me know if Aqua says anything, okay?”

“You bet,” he says, and hangs up. He’s just about to put his phone back in his pocket when a notification catches his eye.

Text message from Aqua: _ meet me by the lake. _

It’s an hour’s walk from their castle to the lake hidden in the western forests; he makes it in fifteen, clearing most of the distance by Glider. Aqua sits on a rock overlooking the wide expanse of water. This used to be his secret place, before he’d shown it to a fourteen-year-old Aqua after she’d failed an exam—the first and _ only _ in her life—and it’s seen more than its fair share of pivotal life moments: they’d had their first kiss here, sloppy and nervous at seventeen, and hours of deep conversations about their dreams for the future.

The lake is not a simple meeting place. There’s a weight to meetings here between the two of them, and Terra’s heart beats erratically against it.

He joins her on the other side of the rock. She has her phone in a vice grip, her hands shaking softly. “You came quickly,” she says, her voice tight.

In the privacy of the waves and the trees ringing the lakefront, he feels bolder: he wraps an arm around her shoulders but doesn’t squeeze her close to him, feeling the tension in her body. “We haven’t been talking much. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s,” Aqua starts, but cuts herself off. Turns away from him. 

She doesn’t shrug away from his touch, though, and he takes that as a good sign. “Did Aerith get back to you?”

For a second he worries he’s said the wrong thing; Aqua becomes a stone under his touch, to the point that he actually does start to pull back. But one sharp grab of his wrist prevents that, even though the hand she uses is shuddering violently. “Aqua…?”

“Aerith,” Aqua says slowly, then sighs. “Did a test for me.”

“Oh?”

Her hand on his wrist tightens. “A pregnancy test.”

_ Oh. _

“Okay,” he says, trying to ignore his thundering heart. He’s helped her clean herself up after throwing up, and dampened the sweat from her head, but he’d never thought… 

Doesn’t matter what he thinks, not right now. “What do we do now?”

He moves, glacier-like, to look better at her. She’s avoiding his gaze but can’t quite hide the new gleam to her eyes. 

“It was negative,” she says, and juts out her chin.

“Aqua,” he whispers. “I’m…” The word’s pathetic even to his ears, but what is he supposed to say? He’s never thought of himself as a man of words, only actions, and he’s failed her multiple times on both fronts. So instead he says nothing, repositioning their hands so their fingers link together.

“They told me I wouldn’t be able to get pregnant, after. Or, they weren’t _ sure _I could.” She scoffs, blinking furiously. “I know that Eraqus came from a line of well-respected Keyblade wielders, but I just… I never thought about my life beyond becoming a Keyblade Master. And if I did, it was only…”

He waits until he’s sure she won’t continue before adding, “Fantasies. I was the same way.”

Aqua swallows hard.

Silence settles over them like a weighted blanket on their shoulders. Her thumb starts moving in small circles along the fleshed bend between his thumb and index fingers.

“But we’ve changed so much in the past few years,” she says, “so if you don’t—”

“I think it’s more if _ you _ don’t.” He closes his eyes. “Do you?”

“Answer my question.”

Terra takes a deep breath. “There were… dreams, I’d have. When we were young. Nothing concrete. I’d see a little kid running around the training grounds. There was a lot of laughter. I remember waking up happy, after those.”

He could never remember what they looked like, but he can imagine: Aqua’s sad blue eyes and a wild brown mane of hair, a wide smile they’d learned from Uncle Ven. 

“I’ve never really thought of myself as a dad. But…” He squeezes her hand and takes the leap. “I would do it. If it was with you. If it’s something you wanted.”

She looks down at their hands, fiddling with them. “I never let myself dream about it, honestly. I focused so hard on my studies, figuring out what I would do with my life after... and then, everything that came after our exam. I didn’t think this would ever be a path open to me, to _ us. _I’m worried I’m being selfish, wanting this.”

His mouth has gone dry in a matter of minutes. “Selfish how?”

Aqua's eyes narrow as she throws him a watery sideways glance. “It would impact my duties as Master. I wouldn’t be able to go on missions, my ability to train would be _ severely _impacted by a pregnancy, I could be distracted...”

He lifts his arm up to settle around her shoulders; this time she leans into him, burying her face into his chest. He makes no comment on the slow trickle of tears seeping into his skin, but kisses her gently on the top of her head. “You have me, and Ven, and the others to pick up the slack. Aqua,” he says, and this time she meets his eyes. “You don’t have to do everything alone, you know.”

“I thought you enjoyed my stubbornness,” she mutters.

“Not when it’s keeping you from things you want.” He moves down to kiss her forehead. “For the record, I think you’d make a great mom. Not that I’m biased.”

She looks up, brushing a few lingering tears from her eyes. “You’d make a fantastic father. And I’m _ extremely _ biased.”

“Oh really.”

“You doubt me?”

“Never,” he says, and kisses her forehead again. “So do we… how do we make this happen?”

“Well, when two people love each other—”

“I know _ how_,” he says, heat rising to his face. Master Eraqus had been particularly thorough in _ those _ lessons. “But just… you know.”

She straightens to lean against his shoulder, toying with his fingers. “I don’t know if I want to actively try. But just… if it happens, then it happens. At least for now, while the Worlds are still stabilizing. We don’t know what else might happen.”

“Is there ever a good time to have and raise a child?”

“Maybe not, but it’s important to keep duty in mind. And I’ll broach the subject with Aerith, there might be… things that we can do. To help.”

He nods, bringing their hands together to kiss her wrist. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she says, and moves their hands to make room for her mouth on his. She kisses him sweetly at first, her lips pliant against his as she moves their hands into her lap. That sweetness disappears almost immediately when she skirts her tongue against his bottom lip, and he opens to let her inside. Warm, electric heat surges through him as he closes the distance, his free hand coming up to cradle her face and pull her tighter against him.

He pauses only to ease the fire burning in his lungs from lack of oxygen. “So—are we—”

“Not out here,” she says, eyes similarly burning. “And this can’t be our highest priority.”

“Right.” He grins.

“But if… if you’re serious about this,” she says, “_really _serious.” She pauses as if to let him deny, to change his mind. He doesn’t, instead pressing kisses into the side of her mouth. “Terra.”

“I’m in. If you’re in.”

Aqua nods, laughing and looping her arms around his neck. “Then I’m in.”

It takes an hour and fifteen minutes to walk from the lake to their bedroom at the top of the mountain. On the back of his bike, they make it in five.


	3. seasons

Naminé returns to her room just as she’d left it last February: sketchbooks spread haphazardly over her drawing desk, half-finished pieces on her easel, sweaters and cardigans hanging neatly in her closet. The only change that he’s made is changing out the sheets and cleaning the cobwebs from the windows, and even that had been maintenance he’d had to ask permission for.

She’d told him once, in the months right after Xehanort’s fall, that she never knew if she’d have a permanent home—that the freedom of travel had proved too tempting after a half-life spirited around from cage to cage, whether it be Castle Oblivion or the mansion in Twilight Town or even (and here she had paused, reluctant, knowing it wasn’t the right word but knowing no alternative) Kairi’s heart. It’s different when she chooses, and after a year of being torn apart at choosing one, she decides to choose them all.

So each year, when the snow comes to the Land of Departure, Naminé is here to greet it.

“I know Ven has a big dinner planned,” Terra says, watching as she sets her small suitcase on the edge of the bed.

“Which means you’ll be leaving to help him?” she teases. Her smiles are wider, more daring now, and only ever with him. She’s grown into her colt’s limbs and even gained several inches in height, almost threatening to grow taller than Aqua. Her hair’s been braided into a long fishtail down her back, the crisp plaits no doubt Ven’s handiwork.

“He says he has it under control this time, but I’ll be on standby just in case.”

“I’m sure Aqua will appreciate that,” she says, and pauses. “How is she doing?”

“She’s fine,” he says, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. “Keeping herself busy with some diplomatic missions.”

“With Kairi, right? We keep in touch.”

“That’s good.”

“I meant more… you know. And you too.”

He pauses, averting his gaze. He and Aqua had promised themselves that trying wouldn’t become their main priority, that they had to put their duties as Masters above these personal desires, that it would happen when it happened. But a month of trying had become a season and was now quickly approaching a year, and nothing had happened. Not even a false positive.

No one was even supposed to know, but well. You leave a drug store receipt out _ once _in front of Lea…

(Terra’s already picked out a sad piece of coal to give him for Christmas. Sora’s close with Santa, right? Soak it nice and long before putting it in paper, handwrite a card with two very specific letters, watch him open it. Then ban him from his famous holiday punch until his kid’s eighteen.)

“It’ll happen when it happens,” he finally says, and looks up at her with a smile. “She’ll be happy to see you when she gets back tonight.”

“I hope it’s soon; it looks like I came in time for the first snowfall.” Namine looks out at the sky, thick with gray clouds. It’s early enough in the season that it really could be rain or half-snow—everything would depend on how the northern winds blew in the evening.

“Looking forward to building snowmen with Ven?”

“I’ve been practicing with the sand on Destiny Islands. Different material, I know, but some of the principles are similar enough that they should be able to transfer over.”

“I’m gonna have to see that before I believe it.” He laughs, and she laughs in response, abandoning her suitcase to give him a sudden hug.

“It’s good to be back,” she says softly. “Thanks for having me.”

The contact catches him off guard, but he relaxes into it as best as he can; there’s still some tension in his shoulders, but he returns the hug and pats her back for good measure. “You know you’re always welcome here. As long as you want it to be, this room is home.”

They walk down to the kitchen together, surprised to see that there isn’t food smeared on the counters and cupboards. Ven’s managed to find the gag gift Roxas had given him last Christmas—an apron with _ Cook Only Interested in Being Friends Thanks _in looped writing all down the front—and that, too, is surprisingly clean. Chirithy looks up at them with a snickering purr, and Ven only has time to look up from the oven before Terra asks, “You slacking, Ven?”

“Am not! Stew takes _ forever _to cook, you know that. And I’m still waiting for the oven to be hot enough for the bread.”

“When you said we’d be breaking bread tonight, I didn’t think you meant it literally,” Naminé laughs.

“Yeah, well, the first day you’re here is always special.” Ven throws a flashing smile like it’s nothing, and Terra chuckles as her cheeks go slightly pink. “So I wanted to pull out all the stops.”

Terra sits down at the small kitchen table, where the four of them usually eat; there’s a larger table out in the dining room, meant for formal dinners. “I didn’t even know you knew how to _ make _bread from scratch.”

“I don’t, but Aqua left a recipe behind. And I’m good at following directions.”

Terra raises a brow at him.

“I’m good at following directions _ when I want to_,” Ven amends.

The kitchen smells like spices and cracked sourdough when Terra feels it: the wards gasping open just for a second as the keeper of the world’s castle comes home. Ven must feel it too, because he looks up from the pot simmering on the stove and breaks out into his trademark grin. “She’s right on time,” he says. “Naminé, want to grab the bowls?”

He leaves them to set up the table to greet Aqua at the front door. Her hair’s windswept and slightly wet when she walks in, and she shakes some of it off before she sees him. He smiles knowingly. “Any snow yet?” he asks.

“No, but we’re getting close. I thought I saw my breath coming up to the front door.” She dismisses Stormfall in a flourish of petals and meets him. “Everyone here safe?”

He nods. “Naminé’s almost settled in. We have food waiting for you.”

“Good, I’m starving.” She presses a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“Everything go to plan?”

“For the most part. Just some tension between Atlantica and Pacilan. Prince Eric’s kingdom,” Aqua says, when Terra’s face goes blank. “Old enemies of King Triton’s are stirring, and Eric is taking… particularly drastic measures to keep his people safe.”

“An army?”

“A wall.”

“Not the approach I would have gone with,” he says, and gestures back down the hallway to the kitchen. “Did you get to see Ariel?”

“I did,” she says, and though she smiles it doesn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “And I met her sweet baby girl, Melody.”

Terra pauses, extending a hand. She takes it wordlessly, squeezing twice. He wants to wrap her up in his arms, knowing full well that Ven and Naminé are waiting for them to come eat.

“She’s only a few months old but she looks just like her mother. And oh, Terra, her heart is already so full of light.”

“Maybe when she’s older…?”

He brings it back to duty because it’s easier; too much time spent on discussing hair color and button noses can only drag them deeper down in spirits. 

Aqua squeezes his hand a third time, the touch tighter and lasting longer. “It’d be nice for each world to have their own wielder, for protection.” She takes the lead toward the kitchen, never letting go of his hand. “But that’s far, far into the future. For now, let’s focus on tonight.”

They’re greeted with delighted cheers and hugs a plenty—if they notice the new tightness to his eyes or the way Aqua takes a few more moments to answer their questions, they don’t comment on it. He’s grateful for them. Always has been, for so many reasons: for their courage and their heart and their fierce, undying friendship. But he’s especially grateful for the way they keep conversation light, switching topics effortlessly from adventures to art to—

“I’ve actually been thinking about a project this season,” Naminé says, finishing her second serving of stew. “And I’m hoping I’ll have your blessing.”

“Sure,” Aqua says, conversation easing her face back into smiling by default. “What were you thinking?”

“I’m thinking of moving bedrooms, somewhere that gets a little more light in the morning. But I was hoping to paint a mural on one of the walls—just something simple. I’d understand if you don’t approve, but…”

He and Aqua meet eyes only for a moment. It’s an effortless decision. “Of course, Naminé. What would you need?”

“Just some paint. I brought brushes with me, just in case. Maybe a roller, and some tape? Tarps to protect the hardwood floors…”

“I’d be able to help her get everything she needed,” Ven says. “And I’m pretty light on missions, so I’d be able to help.”

“Barring any emergencies, I don’t see that being a problem.” Aqua smiles. “I can’t wait to see what you have planned.”

“Only when it’s done,” Naminé says, and puts a finger up to her lips with a wink. “It’s a surprise.”

* * *

She’s very serious about keeping the final project a secret from Terra and Aqua: if either one of them so much as looks at the closed door, Naminé knows. He passes the room on the way to the bathroom one night, and the door is only open just a crack, but he doesn’t even get a chance to think about sticking his head in when she meets him face-to-face and says, “Don’t.”

And he doesn’t, because Naminé may very well be the strongest of them all.

The snow comes just a few days after Naminé arrives, blanketing the Land of Departure in a snowy blanket. He spends more time maintaining the training grounds to keep them in a usable state in the winter, and more time away on missions. Not long excursions, like the ones that take Ven and Aqua away from the castle for days or weeks at a time—with the sudden spells of weakness that his body’s prone to, he doesn’t push himself further than he’s able.

Add it to the list of things that Xehanort’s stolen from him: years of his life, confidence in combat, easy conversations, and maybe even—

No. He stops that thought right in its tracks, shaking his head furiously. He’d spoken to Aerith in the summer and his… his _ everything _ just needed to be monitored. Keep a healthy diet, keep stress levels down. He’d nearly laughed in her face at the last bit, because they’re Keyblade Masters and stress is point one of the job description: _ handle stressful, near-death experiences with ease._ He's spent too much time being angry at things he can't change anymore; today, it seems, he has the strength to shove those thoughts away.

“Get it together, Terra,” he says, as he walks through the door. February is right around the corner, and patches of grass are starting to pop up on lower elevations. The snow will stay a month or two more up by the castle, washed away by rain and kept at bay by the flowers blooming up and out. Until then, he deals with the wet ends of his pants and white traveling cloak and goes home.

To his surprise, Ven’s there waiting for him. “Naminé finished the room!”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, tapping excess snow from his boots. “She’s ready to show us?”

“Yeah, she sent me down here to bring you both up.”

“Both?”

“Aqua’s waiting for us at the top of the residence wing.”

Sure enough, Aqua’s there with a bewildered expression on her face. “I’m sure the mural is great, Ven, but do we really—”

“Yes! And she insisted that you had to close your eyes.”

“What, now?”

“Unless you want me to practice Blackout on you, then yes.”

He and Aqua share a glance. She shrugs, and closes her eyes. He follows suit. Ven takes both of their hands and guides them steadily down the hallway; at least he’d waited until they were _ up _the stairs to do this, Terra supposes, allowing himself to be led.

The worst of the paint fumes have left, no doubt chased away by the crisp air brought in from the open window. He hears Naminé whisper something to Ven as he places Terra and Aqua together so that their shoulders brush. 

“Okay,” Naminé says. “You can look.”

He hears Aqua’s soft gasp before he’s able to fully take in the room. He doesn’t know where to look first: the very sky stretches out around them, the gentle pinks and golds of sunrise blending effortlessly into the reds and purples of a young sunset. Wispy clouds stretch along the tops of the walls, never distracting.

“It’s beautiful,” Aqua whispers.

“It took a few tries, and several coats of paint,” Naminé says, smiling. “I wanted something that would look good in any light; we spent a lot of time just watching how it looked in here throughout the day.”

“You’re going to love spending time in here,” Terra says, and looks down at her. “When do we move your furniture? Unless you wanted to get something new?”

Naminé looks over to Ven, who smiles. “Actually, she’s not going to be living here.”

“What do you mean?” Aqua asks slowly.

“It’s a present for you. Or, not you _ specifically, _I guess.”

“When you’re ready, I thought… this could be your nursery,” Naminé says.

And time stops.

Or time _ skips _—it’s the only way he knows how to explain the flashes that he’ll only half-remember later, when they’re unfolding for real in front of him. It’s close enough to touch: the white furniture they bring in, the morning sun washing over the sunrise forever captured in the room; Aqua lounging in a rocking chair near the front window, a tight smile on her face; him in that same chair, setting an empty bottle down on the ground beside him as the bundle in his arms squirms.

It all disappears with a blink of his eyes; suddenly they’re back in a near-empty room with Ven and Naminé still talking.

“We wanted everything to be ready,” she’s saying, “although I guess it’s not everything if we don’t have any furniture…”

“We figured you’d want to pick that kind of stuff out, and we can help paint it if… you… Terra?”

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he brings a hand to his wet cheek; even then he thinks his throat tightening up could just be a weird side effect of the cold, that the ringing in his ears is the barrier to their world breaking. Aqua’s shaking beside him, saying something, saying everything he would ever want to.

“...sure it’s okay?”

“...not be okay, of _ course_…”

“...if we overstepped someone else can…”

Suddenly his arms are thrown wide open and he has bodies crushed against his—two heads of blonde, and then Aqua’s arm thrown around his waist and Ven’s. He has so many words jumping for sound in his mouth, but is able to say his most important ones: “I love you all so much.”

He doesn’t say “I love you” nearly enough, he realizes, when Ven laughs joyfully in his ear and Naminé squeezes him tighter and Aqua presses the firmest, warmest kiss to the side of his face. It’s an easy change to make, one worth making. 

Xehanort’s taken so much from him, but this… he can’t ever touch this. That’s enough to warm him for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as I know there's no official name for Prince Eric's kingdom, so I just. Made one up. Because that's how I roll.


	4. dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a very brief, non-graphic depiction of love making near the end of this chapter--think the fade-to-blacks in PG-13 movies or CW shows. If that's not your jam, no worries, just end the chapter at the break.

Aqua hadn’t been expecting a ball for Corona’s spring equinox celebration, but it still catches her by surprise with how… _ informal _the festivities are.

It’s hard to think that it’s been a year since that initial stomach bug, since she and Terra had started trying. A year, Aerith had been quick to assure them, was normal, especially with an irregular cycle and the stress demands of their duties—a year meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. She could concede that: she’s spent much more time on far more gruesome things.

“You’ve got that look in your eyes again,” Ven teases, drawing her out of her thoughts. His blond head dips around her, his limbs a tangled mess of movement. Aqua laughs, half embarrassed, and picks up her steps again.

She spins away from Ven as the music swells into the arms of strangers and friends alike: the vendor who’d aggressively tried to sell her bread the day before, Riku who danced as gracefully as he battled, Naminé who finally seemed to have grown into her new height. Ven took as many dances as he could, laughing all the while. It was hard not to laugh with him, to let her body spin thoughtlessly in the crowd.

Aqua pauses at the end of a fast jig with a dark-haired woman, short-winded but flushed and satisfied, to scan the crowd. Sora and Riku were twirling around each other as Kairi clapped and smiled, Ven had moved on to snapping pictures with Naminé in front of the massive murals on the eastern walls, Rapunzel had moved to the front with her husband (she never knew how to address him—was it Eugene or Flynn?) and Terra—

Actually. When was the last time she had seen him?

They’d shared the first dance, she remembered that, stepping awkwardly over each other after decades of missed practice. He’d been pulled away for some reason or another, and she’d been pulled to dancing by Ven, and… that had been it.

She makes her way over to Ven, who meets her eyes with glee. “I heard they’re going to start the main festivities soon! Nothing like the lamp lighting for Rapunzel’s birthday, but—”

“Where’s Terra,” she interrupts.

“He’s… oh,” Ven says, and furrows his brow. “Wait, he was over by the flowers earlier, right?”

“He might be on the waterfront,” Naminé says. “It’s probably less crowded down there.”

“I’ll go find him,” Aqua says. “Let the others know?”

Naminé nods, already pulling Ven over to the Destiny Island wielders. She notices the thoughtful looks on their faces but it doesn’t make her stay; she turns away with a wave and makes her way through the back alleys to the water. There are a few strangers who seem to have had the same idea to get some space, to think or reflect—or not, she balks, as one young couples starts making out in front of one of the closed shops. Her cheeks are red as she turns away from them and walks on.

Thankfully she doesn’t have to go far: Terra’s sitting on the edge of one of the piers, watching the sky go orange. It’s similar enough to the eastern wall in the nursery, the one they’ve shut the door to after another season of nothing, to bring a lump to her throat. “Terra?”

He doesn’t turn toward her, but pats the empty space beside him. She answers it as the invitation it is, filling the space and reaching out to touch his shoulder. When he doesn’t flinch away from her, she grabs his hand. “Everything okay?”

“Just too many people,” he says quietly. “And I always love to watch the sunsets on different worlds.”

“It is lovely,” she says.

“You didn’t have to come here to find me, you know,” he says. “I heard they’ll be starting the big dances soon.”

“I’ve danced enough. Besides,” she says, “I’d only want to participate if I had the right partner.”

“You’d have your pick out there.”

“My pick,” she says, “is right here. Always has been.”

He squeezes her hand and she looks at him. His eyes are clear and blue even in the dusking light, and they’re hyperfocused on hers. It’s not often that he puts such weight into his stare, but when he does it’s impossible to look away from.

“Unless you don’t want to dance anymore,” she says.

“Do you?”

Are they still talking about dancing?

“Yes,” she says.

“Then yeah.” He stands on slightly shaky legs but pulls her upright. The dock creaks a farewell as they walk back to solid ground, Terra’s hand already reaching for her hip. Their dancing had been rusty before the great fall—studying for the Mark had always taken priority over cementing steps to the waltz, no matter how good it had felt to sway so closely with each other—and now it’s downright laughable. But there are only a few people here to watch them fumble over each other—

“Terra, my shoes!”

“Sorry!”

And to eventually decide to just sway to the highest notes tumbling over the rooftops from the main square. She presses an ear against his chest, hearing the steady _ tha-dump tha-dump _of her heartbeat, and sighs.

She feels him press along kiss at the top of her forehead and smiles. Even simple displays of affection feel daring out here, when they’re so used to keeping to themselves. But tonight they’re not here as silent watchers, protecting the people from the dangers that might be lurking in the shadows growing longer in the dusk; they’re here as guests, as young people wanting to great the season, and if they’re guests...

Her hands find the sides of his face, and he only has time to stammer her name before she pulls him close for a slow, long kiss. When they part, breathless and flush-faced, Aqua lifts her chin. “We aren’t on duty.”

“No,” he says slowly, brow furrowing. “But—”

“I love you,” she says slowly, and she’d laugh at how wide his eyes go if she weren’t completely serious. There’s an ache in her belly that feels more like yearning than emptiness, and she wants to jump on it now before it turns again.

Terra plays with a lock of her hair, longer now than in the past. “I know,” he says, and kisses her—fleeting and feather-light, a ripple that disappears into the dark seas of their thoughts.

She takes the leap. “The inn’s just a few blocks away, right?”

It makes a splash; Terra looks back at her, jaw dropping. “You want to… here?”

“What? No. No, we’ve already been… a little too open,” she says, blushing slightly. “We don’t have to do anything but just rest. You look tired, and I’m ready to put my feet up.”

He doesn’t respond but buries his nose into the crook of her neck, breathing her in. She lets him, threading fingers through his own hair—he’s growing his out too, and she loves the loose silkiness of his locks between her fingers.

“I don’t even want to do anything, I just…” She swallows hard. “I _ miss _you.”

They keep missing each other between missions and scouting for new apprentices, and the times they are intimate there’s always a _ goal _ in mind, the thought of _ what if this is it _ heavy in their minds and the crushing despair that follows weeks after when it isn’t heavy on their hearts. Pills and doctors appointments and scans and tests and tests and _ tests_, they all take up the time that isn’t spent on duty. She doesn’t even remember the last time she’d held him like this, without expecting anything, just to feel his skin against hers and his breath in her hair. It’s one more failure—

No. _ Stop. _They’re here now, together, and that’s all that matters right now.

“I miss you, too,” he says, and she pulls him tighter to her.

“Then let’s lay down,” she says softly. “This is our vacation too, right?”

He nods and leads the way.

* * *

Rapunzel had offered them all rooms in her castle, but Terra and Aqua had chosen a small inn in the heart of the town instead. She’s grateful for it now: the space is small but cozy, just enough space to be comfortable and non-restrictive. Terra throws the windows open, and though they face away from the dancing crowd they can still hear the music that jumps into the air. 

There are still leftover chocolate-covered pretzels she’d purchased the other day on the table; she grabs the bag and joins him on the bed. “It’s dark chocolate,” she says, and he nods and takes one, nibbling at the end.

“It’d be easy to make these.”

“I was thinking I would for the holidays. Add some peppermint.”

“I think the kids would like that.”

It’s wrong to call them kids: they’re heroes of the Keyblade, who had succeeded where the two of them had failed so spectacularly. It doesn’t change that they’re young and foolish outside of combat, even years after the war, able to act like the teenagers they are. But she feels protective of them all the same—it’s a hard habit to break when she can still close her eyes and see them as children, hiding behind her legs from Unversed or staring up at her from a beach at sunset.

“I noticed you haven’t been using the cane much.”

He shrugs. “Haven’t needed it.” Ends of the Earth is out of his hand more frequently than it is, in one form or another—she remembers the first few months after he reclaimed his body, when the bronze and blue cane was a constant companion. Years removed from that experience, he still has instances where his body doesn’t quite keep up with his wishes. But he’s getting stronger, each and every day. “The exercises Aerith gave me are really working.”

“Do you think you’d be up for training?” she asks.

He nods. “When we find the right student. I was actually talking with Riku before I left, he’s interested in keyblade transformations.”

“He doesn’t want to train with Sora?”

“He and Sora have better ways of spending their time together,” Terra chuckles. 

So she hadn’t been the only one to notice their new closeness. Aqua smiles, leaning back into the mattress. Terra’s eyes follow her down, settling on her joined hands. One of his large hands covers them, fingers resting on top of hers.

“Did you see the little boy in the crowd? Redhead, hair pulled back with a green ribbon?”

Aqua takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “Did something happen?”

“He just got overwhelmed with so many people, and then he couldn’t find his dad--they got lost while he was buying the kid a big pretzel, I think. And he just… kind of started talking to me, asking me who I was and why hadn’t he seen me before.”

“And you said…?”

“I came from a neighboring kingdom. Then he started talking about his day like nothing was wrong. I’ve never seen a kid open up so quickly to a stranger before. Granted, I haven’t seen a lot of kids. But it was just…”

He licks his lips, brow furrowed. Aqua waits patiently for him, lifting one hand to brush the bangs out of his eyes.

“It scared me, how trusting he was. Not just with me, with _ anyone _. I don’t know if it’s because it’s that safe in Corona, or if he’s just that kind of kid, but…”

“What’d he do when his dad found him?” Aqua asks quietly.

“Shook my hand, said that’s what people did to thank each other. His dad looked big, might’ve been a carpenter. Businessman.” He laughs. “I guess I got my Melody moment.”

“I guess so,” she whispers.

He glances up at her, brushing a thumb against her waist. And then, with a shuddering breath, he kisses her belly button through her shirt.

_ There’s nothing there_, she wants to say, but the words are blocked by the new lump in her throat. Instead she asks, “That’s why you left?”

“I was also getting overwhelmed by the crowd,” he says with a shy smile, and presses a longer kiss to her abdomen. “Kid had the right idea, going to the edges. I’m surprised no one stepped on him.”

“He was safe. I bet you didn’t let him out of your sight.”

“Any kid of ours is riding on my shoulders in crowds like that.”

“Picks out the pretzel himself.”

“And he’ll share, because we taught him manners.”

Outside the music shifts, crescendos into something low and languid. With shaking arms she tugs to pull him up close to her, his mouth against hers. She’s probably supposed to have a final one-liner, something sassy or sexy. But his eyes are burning the way her chest is, his mouth careful and warm as it moves from her lips down her neck. Aqua wraps her arms around him to keep him close to her.

They lose the plot of the dance soon after, but it doesn’t matter: it’s not a ball where they’re expected to know all the steps, to blow each other away with fancy footwork—it’s a jig, movement for the sake of movement, leaving them breathless and blissful in the aftermath. Freestyle, no scripted choreography. 

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s melted like this, or the last time she’s wanted to be so vulnerable. She always feels safe with him, feels _ wanted_. This feels like something else, like a promise. Like an oath. Thick or thin, they're together.

They lounge on the bed after, the world coming back to them in breaths. Aqua’s the one to break the silence, when she’s blinked the white out of her vision. “The others will be disappointed we didn’t show up for the dance.”

“We going to head back out?” he asks instead.

“I’d be fine staying here,” she says, comfortably warm under the blankets. “Why, do you want to go back out?”

“I owe Naminé some food.”

“Ven’s beat you to that, I think.”

“Then a dance.”

“Well,” she says, sitting up, “I hope you know I’ll want one too.”

“I thought that went without saying.” He smiles, pressing a heavy kiss into her shoulder. “Hey, Aqua?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a great partner,” he says, and looks up at her with the softest smile she’s ever seen him wear.

Her heart’s warm and full to bursting when she leans down to kiss him again, fingers threading back through his hair. “I wouldn’t want to dance with anyone else.”


	5. dreams

“The trick to a heavy weapon,” Terra says, “is timing.”

Autumn’s burned the green of the lawn and the trees to fire, amber and red claiming the trees. The farmers at the base of the mountain are winding down their harvests, beginning preparations for the winter ahead; her pantry’s already overflowing with canned fruits and meats for the cold season, and baking pies has become a regular chore alongside cleaning and inspecting the castle for leaks.

That couldn’t matter less to the two wielders in front of her. Destiny’s Embrace, normally a thin and winding weapon, has swollen to a hammer, held tightly in both hands by a flushed Kairi. Terra, meanwhile, rests Ends of the Earth against his armored shoulder, walking around Kairi and making quick adjustments to her form.

“Swing too early or too late, and you give your enemy an opening to cause serious damage.”

“Can’t I compensate with magic?”

“You can. But I want to focus on getting you to swing with just the base weapon.”

Kairi huffs, lifting the hammer with both hands. It’s a feat she hadn’t been able to manage even two months ago, and Aqua’s brow raises at the motion.

“Better. Feet wider, though, you don’t want to topple over.” Terra’s smiling, lowering Ends of the Earth. “Ready? I’m going to try to attack you, and I want you to either block me or hit me in an opening.”

Kairi nods, determined. “Bring it.”

Aqua smiles, watching the first few blows. Of the non-Masters, Kairi has been one of the most determined to improve. Her progress hasn’t been the steadiest, but judging by the improvements in her form and her test scores, it seems she’s on another rise. She manages to swing at just the right time to block the (slow, even by Terra’s standards) fall of Ends of the Earth, and Terra grunts in approval, murmuring something to her. Aqua allows herself a small clap for Kairi before returning her attention to the book in her lap. It’s a diary from the library, written by one of the former Masters of the castle. She’d been reading the chapter about him falling in love with a fellow student, how he had despaired when she suddenly vanished without a trace.

She’s about to turn the page when something crunches, and Kairi screams, and by the time she looks up Terra is on the ground.

“I thought he was watching, I didn’t see him look away—”

Aqua runs out of her chair before Kairi’s able to take a breath, on the dirt as Kairi moves to his other side to lift him into a half-sit. His eyes are glazed over and there’s a huge bruise forming on the side of his face. Not unconscious, not yet, but definitely not able to focus on the finger she moves in front of his eyes.

“He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?”

“Quiet,” Aqua says sharply, magic already flooding into her fingertips. Terra’s entire body glows green as she washes Curaga over him, watching as the purple fades from his dark skin. Terra groans, screwing his eyes tight.

“Oww,” he moans.

Her heart’s thundering in her chest but somehow, by the grace of the Olympian gods, she’s able to keep her voice level. “Kairi,” she asks, “how hard do you think you hit him?”

“He told me not to hold back,” she says, each word escalating higher in pitch, “and I’ve been strength training when I haven’t been studying.”

“Hundred,” Terra says. Aqua looks sharply at him. “Pounds. She’s getting stronger.”

It’s an accomplishment she should be applauding. Instead she turns to Kairi, taking a deep breath to steady herself, and says, “There’s some pain medication in the bathroom cabinet near my bedroom. Can you get it for me?”

She must be speed-training with Ventus, too, because Aqua has _ never _seen Kairi run that fast. Now alone on the lawn, Aqua allows her brow to furrow and her hands to curl into fists. “You know the drill,” she says—Terra had been prone to getting concussions in his training, reckless and desperate to prove himself. No wonder he’s taken a shine to training Kairi. “Where are you?”

“Land of Departure,” he says automatically.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“You making a face at that diary.”

It takes a while for the words to register; when they do, Aqua scoffs and narrows her eyes. “You let yourself get distracted by something so foolish?”

“S’not foolish,” he says, and winces.

Relief fades way into something sharper inside her chest. “I think the headache you’re going to have in a few hours would like to say otherwise.” She changes positions, her back to him, squeezing her eyes shut.

His hand comes up to her forearm. She shrugs it away. “Are you really mad at me?”

She's definitely _something_. “You know better than to not give your all in practice. Or did that broken arm at fourteen teach you nothing?”

“I was fine then, and I’m fine now.”

He’s interrupted by Kairi’s scrambling down the stairs—Aqua watches her carefully, ready to cast Zero Gravity to keep her from splitting her jaw open on the marble steps. But Kairi makes it to stable ground without a need for intervention, several bottles of pills in her hands. “I didn’t know which one to grab so I brought them all, I hope it’s okay! I’m so sorry, Terra, I—”

“It’s okay,” Aqua says, mostly to herself. Terra sits up behind her and takes a bottle from Kairi as Aqua takes another deep breath. It doesn’t do much to calm the thundering in her heart, but it’s a start.

“Yeah, Ven’s hit me harder than that with Strike Raid. I still can’t remember that summer. Kairi,” Terra says, reaching out, “it’s okay. C’mere.”

Aqua doesn’t watch them, doesn’t listen to whatever words are exchanged—probably lessons wrapped up in stories, the way Terra used to frame his critiques and praises to Ven when he’d been younger and just learning to wield Wayward Wind. Aqua turns to the bottle in her hands, reading her own name and Aerith’s on the label, and scowls, pushing it deep into her pockets. Her eyes start burning and she scowls further.

If he had twisted his head just a few inches further, if Kairi had gotten a little more force into that swing, if he had landed wrong, if she hadn’t been out there to help him— 

The only words that can begin to push down the tight knot in her throat are said simply, sharply: “I’m going to take a walk.” And Aqua leaves without a word or a second glance.

She lets her feet guide her to the training ground, to the outlook where she’d given Terra and Ventus their wayfinders. Sunset is still several hours away, the bits of sky exposed between white clouds a pale and dusty blue. It’s not a particularly private place to cool down, but she doesn’t care; there are only three people on the mountain right now, and she’s left two at the summit.

Her pocket starts buzzing. She answers without looking at the name. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I should be asking you that,” Terra says.

The anger that flashes red behind her eyes is nowhere near as intense as it would have been—an hour ago, apparently, judging by the clock on her phone. “I’m taking care of it.”

“Kairi thinks you’re mad at her.”

“What?” She scowls. “Of course I’m not.”

“That’s what I told her. And then she asked if she was the reason we were fighting, and now she feels worse.”

Her stomach turns. “We aren’t fighting.”

“There you go, see?” Terra says, and Aqua’s brow furrows. “Nothing to worry about.”

Someone sniffles on the other end, and something clicks in her head. Aqua sighs. “Kairi, I’m not mad at you. Mistakes happen during training. Terra told you about his arm, right?”

“No. But he told me about the time he hurt himself trying to show off for you.”

She almost asks _ which time_, but stops herself. “And all three times he was distracted from his true mission, which was _ training. _” She rubs a hand along her face, sighing. “Just keep focused in a fight, otherwise you’ll get hurt.”

“I will,” Kairi says, suddenly small. “Um. Is it okay if I use the noodles in the back of the pantry?”

It’s supposed to be Terra’s turn to cook lunch for the three of them. She takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, of course,” Aqua says. “Just be sure to—”

“Watch out for the faulty lighter. I know. I’ll be careful.”

There’s rustling and murmured words on the other line that she can’t quite catch, so she doesn’t even try. Instead Aqua finds one of the old stone benches and sits, head lowered with her forehead pressed against the black screen.

“She’s a good kid,” Terra finally says, and Aqua brings the phone back to her ear.

“Yeah,” she answers back, eyes screwing shut.

“I really am sorry for getting myself hurt,” he says quietly. “It won’t happen again.”

She grimaces. “That’s what you said last time.”

And after everything they’ve been through, they should know better than to make those kinds of promises.

“You’re sitting down still? No dizziness?”

“Just a killer headache you’ll have to kiss better.”

“_Terra_,” she admonishes, flushing crimson. “At least I know you’ll be fine, if you can make comments like that.”

She swears she can hear his smile through the phone. “Hang on, Kairi taught me a trick the other day. Press the green button at the bottom left, okay?”

“The—wait,” she says, as the phone goes dead. Not even five seconds later the phone buzzes in her hands again, and she tilts her head: _ incoming video call from Terra. _

His face floods onto the screen, giving her an excellent look up his nose. She’s laughing as he finally adjusts the phone to face in front of him, the castle a huge golden expanse behind him. “There,” he says. His eyes are glassier than she’d like them to be, and she’s already on her feet and walking when Terra laughs. “Do I look that bad?”

“You’re _ stupid _ for letting Kairi leave you alone after giving you a concussion.”

“I called a trained combat healer as soon as she left, making sure to give said healer constant live updates on any changes in my condition.” He holds his head in his other hand, fingers rubbing his temple.

“That… huh. I stand corrected.”

“Don’t sound too surprised, Master Aqua.”

“Don’t sound too smug, Master Terra,” she teases, and chuckles as a slight flush spreads across his face.

Generations of overly eager students have smoothed the path down from the training grounds; walking up and down it is effortless, like breathing, as much a part of her time here as the nicks and cuts she’d received from wooden swords and bo staffs. But it feels foolish to walk with a phone in front of her face, no matter how well she knows this path, no matter that Terra might—

“I really am fine,” Terra says, his brow tight with concern. “You don’t have to rush over to me.”

“Yes I do.” She pauses, looking up at the sky. The heat’s back in her eyes and it’s taking everything in her to keep the tears at bay. “I could have lost you,” she finally says. “Just like that.”

“After the hell we both went through, you think I’d let Destiny’s Embrace take me out?”

“It’s not a matter of _ letting_.”

He shifts, laying back into the browning grass. “Then what is it?”

Her feet come to a stop in front of the golden bridge that spans the small river. She leans against it, taking a steadying breath. “If something ever happened to you, if you were… I don’t know what I’d do, Terra.”

If her signal wasn’t so high, if Terra didn’t have such a penchant for being still in moments like these, she would have thought the call had dropped. But she hears Terra sigh on the other line. “I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

“And I’m not mad at you.” There’s pressure building up behind her eyes, and she blinks furiously to relieve it. Nothing falls, and that’s more than she should probably expect.

She’s about to stand up again when he says, “I had the dream again.”

“You’ll need to be more specific.” She doesn’t dream in her sleep anymore—too many sessions with Sleep spells cast upon her, Even had told her, at the first and only appointment she’d had with him—and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit relieved. She remembers snippets of them ones she’d had immediately after exiting the Realm of Darkness: monsters nipping at her heels, one of the Xehanorts throwing her into a dark and raging river, Terra stabbing himself over and over in the chest with an ancient blade.

Terra still dreams, though: they’re vibrant, epic, enough to rouse him from sleep and bury himself in her arms. He had slept peacefully all the way to morning, no sign of a nightmare.

“The four of us on the beach.”

She, Terra, Ven, and the nameless child. He’s shared that dream with her before, months ago. She turns the camera away from her face and wipes up the worst of the traitor tears with the back of her gloved hand, and starts walking faster.

“Aqua?”

“I’m here,” she says. “But I need to go back to just the phone. N-no camera,” she says, and curses herself for letting those words break.

He only gives her a soft “okay” and she hangs up, calling him back within seconds. Immediately he says, “I didn’t mean to—”

“I can’t take another negative result,” she says, and starts running. Breathing even, footsteps sure.

“Okay.”

The path bends to curve around the mountain. Aqua pays closer attention to her footing, knowing that one wrong step could send her tumbling down. “Aerith keeps saying everything’s _ fine_, that we’re doing things _ right_, but... something should have happened by now." She’d thought, foolishly, after their time in the inn she would have left Corona pregnant, but two months had come and gone and given them _nothing_, again. “But maybe I wasn't... maybe it’s for the best—”

“You don’t believe that.” His words steal the breath from her lungs. She keeps running. “Aqua, tell me you don’t really think that.”

She doesn’t answer.

“We went through hell—actual,_ literal hell _—to live our lives and try things like this. To be _happy_. If you don’t want to anymore, that’s different. But you can't just...”

“You get a choice, too,” she says tightly.

“I made my choice a long time ago. I chose you.”

Her breath stops. She keeps running.

“When we were kids who wanted to be Masters together. When I fell in love with you when we were eighteen and stupid. When I _ told _you what I felt. When I said yes to trying.”

Her strides go wider, her pace quickens. Finally, after what seems like ages of patient silence from Terra's end and heart-ending emotion sweeping over hers, Aqua crests the hill and steps into the open courtyard. Master’s Defender continues its silent vigil at the edge of the drop-off, the three wayfinders showering colored light on the dry grass, the castle looming above. She doesn’t turn to face it, distracted by movement at the base of the stairs. Distracted by Terra, leaning heavily on his cane with his phone to his ear.

He takes a steadying breath before speaking, his voice duplicated. “Every dream I’ve ever had, we stood together. Through anything and everything.” And then he hangs up, decisive, and waits for her.

Aqua drops her own phone face-down on the ground as she runs to him, faster than her legs have ever carried her before. Terra catches her in one arm and holds her tight as she breaks down, burying her face into his chest and sobbing. He holds her through her sobs, through his own, and when his knees start to go weak she holds him up, hands tugging at his new red shirt. 

How often had she dreamed of just this, holding him close to her? When had she stopped considering this the very best outcome, just him at her side and the both of them happy and healing and _ here? _

“I know how much you want this,” he says.

Aqua shakes her head vigorously. “I want you more. As long as you’re here…” She takes a deep breath. “As long as you’re here, I’m okay.”

“We’re a team,” he says, and presses a firm kiss on the top of her head. “No matter what. So if you want to stop… we can. I’m with you.”

Her breath catches; she wipes a few more tears onto his shirt. “I… might.”

“Okay.” Another kiss to her forehead. “Because I don’t want to lose you, either.”

She furrows her brow. “You haven’t—”

“To yourself. To whatever… darkness you’re feeling.” She didn’t think it was possible for him to hold her closer, but he does. “You don’t have to talk about it right now. Or in a week. But I’m here, when you do. In whatever way you’ll have me.”

It’s still hard for them to talk about exactly what happened in their years of darkness: they know more about each other than anyone else, but there are secrets they keep close to their own chests. She doesn’t tell Terra about the lonely nights when she contemplated just sticking Master’s Defender in her chest and calling it done; and Terra hides whatever thoughts linger when he stops all of a sudden, staring into shadows like a paranoid cat. But he always has a hand for her when she can’t fall asleep, and she’s come to learn just what to do to pull him out of those slippery thoughts.

So she nods, loosening her grip on his shirt. He drops his hold on her and pauses. Aqua meets his eyes, shining and wide and so wonderfully blue, and says, “Thank you.”

“I love you,” he says. His thumb rubs away the worst of the tear tracks, a soothing motion that nearly makes her start crying again. “I know I don’t tell you that enough, but I do.”

This time she’s the one to start the hug—not crushing their bodies together, just seeking the loose warmth of an embrace. “I know.”

In the end she has to summon her Glider to take them up the stairs. But it’s enough, she tells herself, to have him against her body. It’s enough to have Kairi waiting for them in the kitchen with a spectacular lunch with fresh sauce and old noodles, to hug her tight and soothe her anxieties. It’s enough to have this, to have sunshine on her face and Terra’s hand in hers.

She'll throw away the pills tomorrow. Open the still-empty nursery to one of her students to make their quarters. She'll kiss her lover long and slow, without expectations. And if it happens... well, wasn't that the plan all along?

So it's enough, she tells herself. And the heavy stone seated low in her belly starts to shift.


	6. stormy weather

A year passes.

The worlds stabilize further, now aware of each others’ presence. When he and Aqua had been small, Master Eraqus had said that the worlds all used to be connected to each other, one tumbling mass of hearts_ — _ after the first Keyblade War, the worlds scattered, creating the Lanes Between. Terra has secret doubts that the worlds will ever be so united again, and can’t so easily shake his Master’s insistence to _ keep the world order. _

Sora does a spectacular job failing that tenant, and it very well may be their saving grace.

Winter winds batter the castle, rattling the windows. He and Riku seem to be the only ones paying any attention; the others are gathered together in their living room, seated around the hearth fire and swapping stories of their latest missions. Holiday celebrations cycle throughout their home worlds, an excuse to gather everyone together for strategy and a good time; this year the Land of Departure hosts the Heroes of the Keyblade, and it feels good to have so many people under his roof. 

“It’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with a ton of magic crabs,” Sora’s saying, and Terra smirks. He’s heard the story before: something about a tropical world with a seafaring girl and a stubborn demi-god. But judging by the slow smile growing on Aqua’s face the story’s new to her; she leans in intently, no doubt taken by this world of “Wayfinders” forever seeking home.

They live a good life: near-constant one-on-one training with the younger wielders, missions throughout the worlds, rebuilding the Land of Departure to someday host even more students. He and Aqua are in love and taking things one day at a time, savoring each moment spent in the sunlight. If there are days when they hunger for anything more, when their eyes linger a little too long on the room Naminé had painted for them so long ago, they hold each other tightly, and sigh, and move on.

She catches his eye and smiles warmly at him, and he answers back with a grin of his own. 

Sora’s right at the climax of his story, where they’d flown on Maui’s back to defeat a volcano goddess, when Lea laughs delightedly with his phone in his hands. “Clean bill of health! Told y’all.”

“Oh, is Aerith sending out results?” Kairi asks, already digging for her phone. “That was fast.”

“Says you,” Ven grumbles, “I had my yearly exam three weeks ago.”

The walls of the castle rattle with a new gust of wind.

“I don’t eat a lot of salt to begin with, why do I need to cut back?” Riku asks, turning to Sora.

The Keyblade’s chosen one smirks. “‘Cause you’re naturally salty?” he asks, and Kairi giggles.

His own phone hasn’t gone off yet; she’s probably going down the list. Not in alphabetical order, apparently, if his dinging phone and Aqua's empty hands are any indication.

He's about to reach out to her before something clicks and the power goes out. The only thing that keeps them from complete darkness is the fire roaring obliviously in front of them.

“Oh man, signal dropped!”

“I saw Aerith typing for me, noooooooo.”

“The generator should be kicking in soon.” That’s Aqua, whose body has gone taut. Ven takes her hand beside her and squeezes supportively, knocking their shoulders together.

“I don’t know know about you guys,” Sora says, “but my phone’s working just fine.”

“Because Chip and Dale like you best,” the rest of the room answers.

Aqua’s holding Ven’s hand in a vice grip but otherwise seems fine. Terra stands up from his place on the couch and clears his throat. “Anyone want any water?” Terra asks, his legs newly restless. Several hands fly up, but only Naminé rises to help him. He smiles. “Okay. Aqua’s right, the power should come back on in a bit. For now, just stay put.”

Naminé pauses in the dark hallway to summon a small ball of white-gold light_— _it’s no larger than one of her sketch pads, just enough to illuminate their path. It floats just in front of them, bobbing merrily along. “You’ve been training,” he says, pleased.

“Kairi and Merlin have been helping me when I stay with her in Radiant Garden,” she says, smiling proudly. “I don’t think I’ll ever be at combat level like the rest of you are, but this is definitely practical. I’ve been using it for an extra bit of light at night, for reading and drawing.”

“You’re doing well,” Terra says, and Naminé beams.

The wind has pulled the snow up into dancing flurries, whitening the sky. It’s strange to see the Land of Departure at night without the golden glow of the street lamps, and stranger still to not hear the hum of the refrigerator. The pies inside should be fine as long as he doesn’t open the door. Naminé pulls out six glasses and hands them to Terra at the faucet, and then goes on the hunt for a tray to serve them on.

“I was thinking,” she says, “when everyone’s gone and it’s just the four of us again, I would like to do some combat training.”

“I think we can make that work,” he says, filling the third glass. “What would you like to focus on?”

“Not so much strength, I don’t think. More… avoidance tactics? I have my staff, and though it’s not as good as a Keyblade it can channel some magic.”

“Aqua may be a better teacher for you overall,” he warns. She’s made avoidance combat an art these days, spinning around the enemy between bursts of Thundaga magic. “But I can always be a practice partner.”

“I’d like that. Thank you,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Power returns to the Land of Departure with a stutter; the fridge stutters on, its low hum the only noise in the kitchen. Naminé dismisses her small ball of light and begins setting the filled glasses on a silver tray; Terra quickly adds three more, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket. “I’ll take the waters,” he says, as she looks down at her own phone.

She doesn’t answer him right away, but follows him back down the hallway. He wonders if it’s different for her and Xion and Roxas, whose hearts had been placed in artificial replicas. From the snippets of conversation Ven has dropped, he knows they visit Even and Ienzo regularly in Radiant Garden just to make sure the bond between body and heart holds; overall wellness has been delegated to Aerith, who knows better than most doctors the impact a life of a wielder can have on a person.

Just before they enter the living room, Naminé sighs with relief beside him. “No sudden changes.”

“Were you worried?”

“No,” she says, her eyes oddly tight despite her words. “But it’s always nice to get confirmation.”

The others are all on their phones when he enters, and hardly look up when he passes them their glasses. It only takes a minute for him to realize his favorite head of blue hair is missing. “Where’s Aqua?”

“Said she had to check on something after the lights came on,” Roxas says, running his fingers over his newly shaved left temple. “She should be back any minute.”

His phone buzzes again. He fishes it out of his pocket and only looks at the lock screen. Two messages from Aqua, from ten minutes ago. He opens the phone.

_ Bedroom. _

Terra blinks but excuses himself with a soft “Be right back,” taking the steps up to the residency wing. Their bedroom is one of the few with a bathroom attached—”the perks of a Master,” Ven had teased them, and it’s hard to deny that with anything more than a grin. He opens the door to find Aqua sitting on the bed, her phone resting beside her.

Something’s changed; her shoulders are set and shaking, and she has a hand held over her mouth. “Hey,” he greets her, lingering in the doorway. “Everything okay?”

The timer on her phone goes off. Somehow, she goes even paler.

He furrows his brow. “Aqua…?”

She looks up at him with huge, glassy eyes, red around the edges. “I need you,” Aqua says slowly, “to go into the bathroom. And tell me what you see.”

He moves carefully, without any sudden movements, to the closed bathroom door. Had something flooded? Had a light burned out? His hand is wide open, Ends of the Earth just a tug away from materializing, as he opens the door and steps inside. Nothing immediately catches his eye_ — _ no new water stains, no leaky faucets, no Heartless hanging from the shower curtain, no sparking electrical panels _ — _until he notices the small white stick resting on the edge of the sink.

“I thought you threw the rest of them away,” he says, mostly to himself, mostly to the pregnancy test staring back up at him.

“What does it say?” she asks quietly, almost too soft for him to hear.

Slowly, hands shaking, Terra lifts up the test. One line means try again. It’s only ever been one line. But he moves his thumb away from the second window, and gasps when he sees it.

Right before his very eyes: two lines, clear as day.

He turns to Aqua with tears in his eyes, knowing he probably looks like an idiot but not caring. Aqua’s crying now too, big fat tears that roll down her flushed cheeks.

“Aerith texted me, I’d taken the blood test for general work, she said it but I didn’t want to believe it,” she says, holding out one hand. “Not without proof.”

He makes it to her in four large strides, gently placing the test in her hands like it’s a precious diamond, like it’s a bomb. She takes it and studies it, choking down a sob, lifting her hand from her face to find his hand.

“This means what I think it means, right?” he asks, his own shoulders starting to shake.

“We’ll need to go see Aerith,” she says. “Do some scans. Make sure.”

They have a positive test and blood confirmation from the good doctor herself, _right there _on the bed next to them. He has to keep them in his line of sight in case it's a dream, and they vanish. They don't, despite his furious blinking and his tear-filled eyes. “So that flu you had a few weeks ago—”

“It was gone in two days, I always get sick in the winter—”

“And the fish—”

“You thought it tasted funny, and I wasn’t the only one who threw it up.” 

He laughs, pulling her close to him, peppering kisses along her wet face. She’s shaking and crying and laughing around him, the hard plastic pressed against his shoulder as she hugs him. “So you’re,” he starts to say, but it still feels wrong somehow to wish it. To think it true.

“Yeah,” she says, and he breaks right there around her.

They part with tear stains all over their shirts and shaking hands and bright-red faces from crying and laughing, but it’s fine_—no, _ fine is too plain a word to describe what he’s feeling right now. Reverent seems closer to the truth. Aqua kisses him with an open mouth and tugs his hand toward her belly, the one that had seemed larger because food was plentiful and there were fifteen pies waiting to be eaten by ten very hungry heroes.

“We should wait to tell them,” she says, like she’s reading his mind. “Until the first trimester passes, and the risk is gone.”

There’s a baby growing right underneath his fingertips, right now. He starts crying harder. “Okay,” he says, the word breaking on each syllable.

“We’re _ pregnant_,” she whispers, and kisses him again, and his hand spreads out over her belly as she leans in closer to him. She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him until they’re both breathless.

A thought occurs to him and he laughs. “You know what this means.”

She shakes her head and kisses the side of his mouth.

“Summer baby.”

“_No_,” she whines, and he laughs harder as her head falls on his chest. “I hate the heat, and neither of us are good at Aero spells.”

“Then we learn.” Summers are mild enough on top of the mountain, and it isn't like Aqua will be leaving the castle much during those last months anyway. “Or I just buy you a fan. Take advantage of that electricity.”

He glances outside the window; the storm’s died down a bit, no longer rattling the windows but still sweeping up the snow in dazzling waves of white. 

“Three fans,” she grumbles. “Per room.”

“Done.”

“Terra?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t laugh,” she says.

“I’m not going to laugh at you,” he chuckles.

She lifts her head, cheeks flushed. “I want pie.”

He laughs and kisses her forehead, her brow, her patient mouth. “Let’s see if anyone else wants one.”

Her eyes are bright and teasing when she asks, “What if I want them all?”

“Then they can make their own pies later,” he says, deadpan.

She snickers, thwapping him on the shoulder. “Terra, no, I can’t eat fifteen pies.” She pauses, thinking. “I don't _think _I can, anyway.”

“I know Ven will be disappointed if he doesn’t at least get a slice.”

“Ven gets a slice no matter how hungry I am. Naminé too.”

“is it too late to get them 'Best Aunt' and 'Best Uncle' shirts?”

“When we announce it,” Terra says, and kisses her again. “What pie do you want?”

“Cherry.” She pulls away, almost reluctant, and looks back up at him. “Terra?”

“Yeah?”

She takes his hand again and squeezes, three times. “You're sure you're ready for this?”

The kiss he gives her this time is soft, sweet, containing all the words he doesn’t trust himself to say right now: _ I love you, I chose you, I’m with you. _ Judging by the soft smile on her face when he pulls away, she’s heard it, loud and clear.

“Then let’s go,” she says, and pulls them both off the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update's the last one! :)


	7. lullaby

You’re five months old and don’t know much about anything yet. Mostly you know that when you cry, things happen: your empty belly fills, or you’re cleaned, or you’re kissed and coddled by so many different people you’re starting to lose track of who’s who. Except Mama and Papa and Ven. You know who they are as well as you know yourself, which is not well at all. But you’re learning. And you know enough. 

You know Ven by his gummy smiles, by his bouncing steps and tight turns—the world spins when you’re in his arms and you’re always laugh, delighted until you’re not. He brings you gifts that you keep fitting in your mouth, despite how many times he takes them away, because they’re soft and soothing. You love Ven the way you love seeing birds fly outside your window, in awe and always pleading for him to come back when he disappears. Papa always holds you when Ven goes, holding you gently but firmly against him. 

You know Papa by the rumble of his voice, the way he always talks to you about everything, pointing out fun things to look at. (Maybe to distract you from putting your hands in his long dark hair, which rarely works. It’s just so soft and in the morning it smells like Mama, and how are you supposed to resist that?) He tells you stories of stars when the sky has long gone dark and there are shadows under his eyes; sometimes the only thing that gets you to sleep is laying on his chest as he talks, sometimes not even to or about you. You love Papa the way you love the crackling fire he’d named you after—_Vesta_, the hearth everyone always fought to come home to—for its warmth and the shadows it throws across the walls to watch. 

And you know Mama by the warmth she gives you, the kisses she presses into your skin each and every moment; you’ve known Mama before you even knew what knowing was. The very first thing you’d felt in your life was her shaking hands catching you, and then her mouth on yours to force open your lungs. You’d cried and she had cried with you, holding you so close to her chest and running her fingers down your slick back. You love Mama the way you love the moment just before you’re completely full of her milk, heavy and full but always wanting more. 

You’re happier when they're with you, and someone always comes when you cry. The night is a peaceful, fragile thing, but you’re happy to break it if it means you’re not alone.

The door to your room opens gently, and you look up through the bars of your crib. It’s Mama who scoops you up tonight; you know this because of the weary warble of her voice as she half-sings, “It’s okay, I’m here.” No one else is with her from what you can tell, but she kisses the side of your head and murmurs little nothings, and for now that’s enough.

She checks your bottom—you’re dry, have been for a while, but it’s always nice of her to check—and when she’s satisfied she moves you both to the rocking chair and sits down with a sigh. Mama offers a breast, well-practiced in this song-and-dance of yours, and you take it to nurse; you don’t _ really _feel very hungry but like the warm satisfaction of work for reward. You fall into a rhythm, and the two of you stare at each other as she smiles and you eat.

Mama doesn’t talk in the dark the way Papa does, but sometimes she sings—it’s only ever when it’s the two of you, _ her little secret _she calls it, and even if you knew what a secret was you wouldn’t tell anybody about it. Tonight it’s a soft song, faster than she usually sings, one that feels familiar even though you’ve never heard it before. Between her soft singing and the new milk in your belly you calm down, just a bit, and when you move away from her chest you reach up to grab her nose. She laughs in the middle of a phrase and wraps herself back up again.

She pats your back until you burp, and even though you feel better afterward that wasn’t the comfort you were seeking. You reach for hair, finding nothing but a few blue wisps, and pat her shoulder insistently.

“You want Papa, don’t you?” Mama sighs, pressing her cheek against yours. “I know. I want him too.”

You’ve never had no Ven _ and _no Papa before. You don’t like it, at all. 

“He’s with Ven in a place called Arendelle,” she says, and though you don’t know what _ Arendelle _is you like the soft cadence of her voice. So you listen, interjecting every so often with babbles and whines. “It’s much colder there than it is here. When you’re bigger, Vesta, we’ll take you so many places. Worlds where trees come to life and give you guidance, where the waves take you on adventures, where giant pirate ships fly through the sky…”

Your eyelids are growing heavier with each word, but you can’t go to sleep yet. Something deep in your chest is telling you not to.

“And—oh,” she says, and a tiny buzzing noise fills the air. Mama shifts her hold on you and fishes out the big blocky thing that _ everyone _ seems to have and _ everyone _keeps away from you, casting her face in blue light. You reach up to pat her mouth and she smiles, her hand moving across the glowing face. “Your Papa has the best timing, I swear. Vesta, look.”

You look past her, to the white clouds stretched on the wall above your crib. Ven keeps saying that _Naminé_ painted them for you, ages and ages ago, but you don’t know a Naminé. At least, you don't think you do. He always promises that you will, when the snows come—that’s when the whole world goes white and cold and the fires you were named after burn brightly.

“He looks good,” a very familiar voice says, and you turn with a delighted shriek. It’s magic: Papa’s in the box! Papa’s right there, smiling and waving at you. “Hey, bud! You doing alright there without me?”

It’s Papa, _ it’s Papa! _You try to wave at him but just end up slapping Mama in the face instead. You giggle, and she laughs, nibbling playfully at your fingers. You squeal with delight as she asks Papa, “I take it the mission’s going well?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. More diplomacy difficulties. Ven keeps saying he could have handled this by himself,” and here Papa laughs, and your heart thrills at the sound of it, “but he’s more lost when it comes to politics than I am.”

Mama chuckles, raising the phone above your head. “I’m sure you’re doing fine. Where is he right now, anyway?”

“They found a reindeer herd and Ven wants to try and ride one.” Papa laughs, loud and bright, and you grin. “What about you two? Nothing major happen?”

“He got a few hours of sleep before waking up,” Mama says. “He misses you.”

You grunt, nodding. It's a coincidence.

“You’re gonna see me tomorrow, I promise.”

You only know tomorrow means _ not now_, and that just won’t do. You reach out to touch him—his hair’s _ right there_, begging to be pulled—but only feel cool glass, nothing at all like Papa’s warm skin. You pout, and try again. 

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here,” Papa says, but it’s _ not Papa _ if you can’t feel his heart in your hand. “Vesta, honey—”

Crying means Papa comes, so that’s just what you do. Loudly, without regret.

“Vesta, shh, it—it’s me, see?” You don’t see; your eyes are fuzzy and Mama’s rocking you, leaning back in the chair to rub circles into your back. “Hey, Vesta—Vesta, listen.”

And he sings, and though you can’t feel it in your skin you hear it. It’s not completely right but it’s not _ wrong _ either, and your tears slow a bit. Not enough to put your heart at ease, or go back to sleep. You’re tired and you want him because he’s _ Papa, _ and your world’s only right when you have him _ and _Mama.

But then the strangest thing happens: there are two voices singing above you.

This is a song you remember from before you knew what knowing was. It had always sounded so soft and far away before, and you don’t remember there being words. Papa’s eyes have gone round but he doesn’t stop, and you look up at Mama to see her staring down at you, feel her chest vibrate underneath yours. This one is much, much slower than the one Mama had sung to you earlier tonight, and already your eyelids are starting to flutter shut.

When the worst of your worry has passed, when you’ve nuzzled your head into the big space between Mama’s cheek and her shoulder, they stop singing; they talk to each other instead. You don’t know what about. You don’t really care. Because more than anything, you think as you fall back to sleep, more than knowing Mama and Papa and Ven, more than knowing you don’t know much at all, you know one very important thing:

You’re loved, and you’re loved, and you’re _ loved. _And that’s enough knowing you need right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! I've had several scenes of this story close to my chest for a very long time now, and was thrilled to finally have an opportunity to share them. Please check out the rest of the stories in the Terraqua Week tag for some more feels.
> 
> Until next time, little songbirds. :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I've been wanting to write for _ages_, and now that Terraqua Week's here I have the perfect opportunity to tell it. :) This is a multi-chap story, and each chapter will be based on a prompt; I'll be moving a few around for narrative flow, but they'll all be touched on one way or another.
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/awakingdormancy)


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